Time
by meowsaysthetardis
Summary: "Time mends us, it can mend anything," he had said to her once. Can time really mend her now?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I know you have a choice when choosing fanfictions to read and today you chose mine so I thank you.

**Disclaimer:** None of these characters belong to me, though I wish they did.

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As time drew on, so did Clara's never ending hopefulness that one day she would be able to be herself again. It was still too early to decide that though, for she still found herself laying on that mattress every night, and crying until she fell asleep. Then she would cry more whenever she woke up, and then she would try to go back to sleep, but wouldn't be able to. The images were unbearable, ones that Clara wished she had never had. They still danced around in her head, and it was probably because of the fact that she had been alone too much. If bad things happened to the Doctor when he was alone, she believed that she was beginning to understand that. Every night, she would lay there and she would be overtaken by a strange form of sadness, one that made you feel dull and numb inside, and the only way you could feel anything was if your cried or if you were hurt physically. Clara eyed the knives sometimes, more than she would have liked to admit. Would they help take away this never ending dullness? This unfeeling pain that settled in her gut? She could only wish for such things, knowing that for a second it would cause her great pain, and then all she would have was a scar upon her skin. It was something she had been avoiding, and even though one may think it easy to avoid, Clara was in a low place. Because without the Doctor, she fell apart. Even if her life wasn't centered around him originally, she had almost made it that way. Made the dumb decision to jump into the time stream, and made the dumb decision to go with him whenever he came to save her.

In more ways than one, she blamed him for these visions she had every night. For she was always dying in them, she had been so much in such a short amount of time, and even though it had been over a month since she was broken, it didn't matter. Yes, she had seen him a couple of times, but both times she insisted she stay behind, only to become deeper and deeper in her self pity. At least, that's how she saw it. It didn't matter that what she was going through was traumatic, because she didn't see it that way. She thought she was just being weak and stupid, and an idiotic girl. He had called her clever once, and she remembered all of the times that people had called her intelligent, but Clara couldn't feel that way about herself no matter the instance.

Today was a day like any other, a Monday to be exact. The Doctor may or may not have been coming that Wednesday, and Clara tried to tell herself she would be fine if he didn't show up at all. However, she had had the breakdown again. That's what she was now referring her attack as, "the breakdown". In her attack, she would find herself dying, literally she would feel like she was dying, like her soul was being burned and ripped to shreds. That had happened the night before. Her screams awoke the children, and Mr. Maitland was scared for her, telling her that perhaps she ought to go home with her father for a while, but no, Clara couldn't do that. Her father would worry too much. In the kitchen is where she had made herself an area, for there was a table there used for dining. Either she sat in that spot, or in her room, and no where else. The Maitlands were worried about her, she knew, they even called some of her friends and asked them what they should do. Everyone said she would get over it, but she couldn't.

Clara now sat in her spot in the kitchen, she just stared at the grain of the table as she often did. It was a normal Monday, she would make supper for everyone soon, make desert. She had been making too many souffles, too many anything, she had even begun to write down her experiences in detail. The lives she had lived. The Doctor, he lived for over 1000 years, and yet she had lived and died twice that many times. It wasn't like she remembered everything, who could? But she remembered more than she should.

_**Because she was supposed to be dead.**_

This was one of those times she needed a friend, and that friend was specifically the Doctor. She didn't care if he loved her anymore, that had fled a long time ago from her system. All she cared about was wether or not he would notice her depression. If he would try to fix it. And above all if he would succeed in fixing her.

_Clara Oswald sat on a wall._  
_Clara Oswald had a great fall.  
All of her friends and family came,  
But they couldn't put Clara back together again. _

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**A/N:** Tell me what you think, yeah?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks for all the great reviews, and really that was just a prologue. Believe me this is actually better than that and an actual story. I changed some things around, so I'm sorry for that; might be a bit confusing at first.

In a world where everything was perfect, Clara could have stayed in bed and continued to cry and wait for the Doctor to return. Two days he had told her, what a lie that had been. A whole month she had waited with not so much as a note or a quick drop in. She was convinced he had left her just like her mother had and she was left with the Maitland's and her own father and that was fine. Who needed a spaceman that took girls away and ended up getting them killed or loosing them? Well, of course she did, but she could get along without him. It had been her fault any way, making him promise her that he wouldn't come and get her for two days so she could think about what had happened. Staying with him in the TARDIS would only make everything worse.

On the second day she had sat there waiting for him to return. She went through three cups of tea in a whole hour and he never showed up. That night she went to bed, and each time she went to sleep she was plagued with nightmares. Even when she woke up the nightmare would continue, flashing in her mind at certain triggers, she couldn't even make soufflés anymore. Each time she did she wound up on the floor crying. So, she had given up by the second week, and now she was back to herself. Or, a version of herself. The Doctor had left her with a bitter heart and so she did things with aggression. She still took care of Artie and Angie and no one spoke of him or asked when he was coming back. Mr. Maitland assumed she had broken up with her non-existent boyfriend and that was that.

Every day Clara looked at the calendar, on Wednesdays she would draw a large red "x" marking how long the Doctor had been gone. This was the only way she could get out her anger. Well, not the only way. At times she did draw that knife across her skin and it reminded her of drawing on paper. Though most days she was fine and she got along. The kids didn't know what was going on, no she acted the same way around them. Smiles, sass, it was all still there around them, but it was an act, a very convincing one at that. This went on for exactly three months before he came back, and the day he came back was one that Clara never wanted to live again. She remembered it just like she remembered the story behind each of the scars on her wrist.

It was a normal day, like most days were and all she had done was take care of the house, the kids, and herself. She had stopped looking at the calendar, god only knew how long it had been since he left. And what was there to even say to him if he did show up? After all, there was nothing that mattered when it came to him anymore; except almost her entire life. Her memories were still scrambled and the only way she could deal with the onslaught of memories was to write them down. That was of course after what she began to call her episodes. Sometimes, Clara would literally think she was someone else and she would frantically begin to search for the Doctor, feeling like she had to help him as this other person. Then she would realize that it wasn't her at all, it was just another echo that was coming through. The pieces were very difficult to explain, and really she shouldn't have been able to remember anything from his timeline. The fact that she was even placed in that safe place in his timeline was something she didn't understand. At first she was burning and then she was living, and then she was burning and falling and then she was dead. The truth was, Clara still thought she was supposed to be dead, the memories she had were becoming so much for her that cutting didn't seem like a good idea. There was no one to guide her on these memories and really, she still had no idea who she was.

For now, she was safe of these attacks, and she was glad for the peace and quiet. She had gone to the living room to watch some television, maybe even take a nap if that came to pass. But what was a day without some drama? It started with the sound. One she always strained her ears to hear without even knowing she did. She sat straight up from her lying position on the couch, almost too quickly. The sound of whirring stopped and she didn't dare go outside, or go to the door. All that she did was sit there and stare at the show on the TV. She tried to invest her thinking in that and didn't move an inch. Till that knock resounded on the door. It was a hearty knock that was obviously caused by a man. Her mouth was going dry. It had been three months, and he was coming back now? No, this couldn't be true. She stood up from her space on the couch, almost immediately being swept back down as her knees went weak. The knock came again and Clara couldn't exactly get up easily. She cleared her throat and stated loudly, "Come in." The door was locked, but if it was the Doctor, well he could easily unlock the thing with his sonic.

However as soon as the door flung open she wished she hadn't said anything. That face was enough to make her throw herself away and she turned into a ball on the couch. She didn't even look at him as she felt pressure on the couch next to her.

"Clara?" the voice said, it was a deep voice compared to what it normally was. She couldn't look at him though, tears began to spill from her eyes and se pressed her forehead against her knees. "Clara. Please," came his voice again. She couldn't look at him though, but her neck was craning upward to do just that. As soon as her almond hues hooked onto his emerald ones, it was like the world was frozen. What did she say to him, his eyebrows were furrowed as he looked her over, and she realized she hadn't bothered to wear a jacket or a cardigan as she often did now. He looked up from her wrists to her face. "How long, Clara? How long was I gone?"

This was the first time she spoke, and her voice was weak and pathetic. "Three months, I don't know. I stopped keeping count." She began to choke on another sob because that was all she could do. Crying was something she seemed to be good at. Braveheart Clara was gone. Before she could comprehend what was happening she was wrapped in a hug, one that didn't seem to end.

"Three months," the Doctor stated as he pulled away. His eyes look worn, more than they usually did, and he backed away from her a bit. Now he was treating her differently, did he think she hated him? Probably. "In my time its only been three days," he put his head into his hands and Clara looked at him apprehensively. Three days? Did that mean the TARDIS had done this then? His hands slipped away from his face and he was now looking at her. In a fast motion he was grabbing her wrist and looking at the scars that told each and every episode she had had. Clara wanted to pull back, but she allowed him to see what he had done. It wasn't his fault though, and she would never blame him as much as he seemed to blame himself. "These are my fault, aren't they? All mine. I'm sorry, Clara. Oh, what else can I say?" A chuckle came from his lips and she looked up at him with another questioning gaze. "Of course I can't say anything. Three months with those memories, no wonder you're torn up. I told you not to Clara, I told you to please not to. And this is why. I've ruined you too."

"No you haven't. I did this to myself. I jumped in to save you, I didn't expect to live." Clara was quick to defend her actions as her own because she didn't know how else to live with the grief. If she made it the Doctor's fault, then sure she could have gone on longer without breaking down, but she knew in her heart it was her own. She jumped in. She allowed him to save her, and so it was her fault.

"Of course you didn't. Does anyone expect to live when they travel with me? Clara, I'm so sorry and if I could I would go back and make it never happen."

"But the problem is that if it didn't happen then you wouldn't have met me before and you would have died in the past. It was meant to happen, but I don't think I was meant to live."

With that sentence, the Doctor was gabbing her by either side of the head and pulling her toward him. He kissed the top of her head and left his hand son her cheeks. "Clara Oswald, you are supposed to be living. I don't care what anyone said to you about dying if you went in, but you survived because you did the right thing, do you understand me? You were meant to live this life and keep it, not the other ones. They don't matter, I don't care about them as much as I care about the original, as much as I care about you."

"Do you though? Do you care about me? Because I shouldn't care about you as much as I do. All of your other companions, you cared about them too. They all cared about you. But whenever you say you care about me, how do you? As a person? Or as the thing that saved you? If you say the second one then I don't want you to touch me anymore, or to even look at me. I wanted you to care about me before this, no matter how short of a time it was, so do you really care about me, or just about what I did for you? I don't think it's the first one, and I can't because no one cares about me that way. I spent hours pouring over whether you would come back and I lost the feeling that you cared for me then. I can't just regain it now. To say you care about me is like saying that you care about someone you've lost in the past, because you lost me a long time ago. While you were gone I had episodes, I would collapse on the floor and I would wake up thinking I was some other me in the world. Do you understand how difficult that is? Of course you don't. You've gotten to live for thousands of years. I have lived thousands of lives, that means I actually died. Right now, I can't remember almost any of them, only a couple. There are times that I remember all of them at once. That's when I know I was supposed to die, and why am I not dead? So don't say you care about me, because if you did you would have left me to die so I didn't have to live with this every day."

His hands had long since moved from her face, and now he looked like a guilty puppy. "So you wanted me to leave you to die? Oh Clara, I couldn't do that. I do care about you as a person, but I can't just do that, I have to care about you both ways, as a person who saved the universe from falling apart, to the girl who makes soufflés in her kitchen. Clara I swear, I thought it was three days, we agreed on two, I know. But I couldn't get you just yet, there were things I had to do, things that needed clearing up and it took longer than expected. If I had known this," his hand grabbed her arm again and then dropped it. "Was going to happen. I would have never left you at all. Never. Do you understand now? I would have never left you by my own accord, Clara. I couldn't. I don't know what it is about you, there's just something there that I need. You have this personality that I need right now. So I will never leave you again, because as a person, you are one of the single most important people I know, because you saved me, but not just because of that, because you brought me out of the dark times. You are always what I need and you are too perfect for me."

A laugh found its way from her lips as he stopped speaking. "It sounds like you're telling me that you love me," it was a silly notion and Clara just shook her head and looked away from him.

"So what if I am?"

"Then I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't, you don't tell people you love them. I've seen it."

"And that means I can't start now?"

"Well of course you can, but-"

"Then stop talking," they hadn't noticed where they had been looking, that their eyes had drifted together or that their banter had brought them closer together.

"I can't."

"Then I'll help you," and then they were so close that their lips just barely touched. The Doctor hardly initiated kisses, he didn't see them as much of anything romantic. However, now he did, because the temptation there was too hard to resist. It was a sweet kiss, one that she had been dreaming of for quite a while. There was only one kiss they had shared in all of her echoes and she held it dear to her, it was the one thing she remembered all of the time from her lives, and it was dumb that she still loved him this way.

The kiss was broken in a short period of time, but that was fine to Clara. It seemed to say he wouldn't leave her again, like it was a promise, and she believed it.

"Will you travel with me again?" she found him asking her. It was a dumb question.

"Of course I will."


End file.
